


This Is How It Goes

by smallamountsofmonster



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drunk Octavia, F/F, Mom Friend Clarke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-26
Packaged: 2018-07-10 07:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6972460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallamountsofmonster/pseuds/smallamountsofmonster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Raven shrugged.  “I’ve seen her around.”  Clarke stopped in the doorway and turned to stare at her roommate.</i><br/><i>“Why would you not tell me that?”</i><br/><i>“I told you yesterday.  I texted you.”</i><br/><i>“No,” Clarke shook her head.  “You texted me five boob emojis and a thumbs up.”  Raven sighed.</i><br/><i>“You will never understand me like Octavia does.”  Clarke shot her a glare before rushing out of apartment and slamming the door behind her.</i><br/><br/>Or: Clarke meets Lexa at a party in probably the most awkward way possible and wastes a lot of time with her head up her ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Is How It Goes

“Why do we even do New Year’s?” Octavia was draped across the couch with her chin propped on her arms.  There was a half empty bottle of champagne on the floor next to her, and she kicked her heels off with a scowl.

“You’re going to wrinkle,” Raven told her.  

“Who cares,” Octavia said.  She reached for the bottle and took a few large gulps.  Her face scrunched up as the bubbles got stuck in her chest and she let out a long, slow breath.  “I’m not going.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Raven said as she leaned on the kitchen counter to adjust one of her shoes.  “Lincoln is going to be there.”  Octavia snorted.

“I’m off boys,” she said, and Raven rolled her eyes.  Clarke was chuckling as she wandered into the living room.  Octavia glared at her, but didn’t say anything.  

“It’s a celebration of things to come,” Clarke slapped Octavia’s ass as she walked by the couch and helped Raven zip her dress up the final few inches.  

“And a congratulations on surviving what’s already passed,” Raven added.  Octavia rolled onto her back and rested the bottle of champagne on her chest, slowly tipping it forward until it could fall into her mouth.

“The best thing that happened to me last year is that I didn’t get pregnant, and I don’t think that’s something I want to celebrate,” she grumbled.  

“Well, it’s something I’d certainly like to celebrate,” Raven said.  She plucked the bottle from Octavia’s grasp and drank.  “Get up, we’re late.”  Octavia grumbled the entire way.

 

\---

 

The party was exactly what Clarke expected it to be.  Too many people with too many expectations in too small a space - it was stifling.  She hated to admit that she sort of agreed with Octavia.  Why _did_ they do New Year's?  Three years ago, if you had brought her to a stranger’s house, handed her a solo cup full of mystery liquor, and pushed her onto a cramped impromptu living room dance floor, she would have been all about it.  She would have dragged you there.  It would have been her idea.  But now, everyone just seemed a little too excited, a little too eager, and a little too sweaty.  It was not worth the hangover.

Clarke thought that this must be the defining moment of becoming an adult.  Once you start making decisions based on the pros and cons of your impending headache, it was all over.  You might as well retire.  You might as well just leave this party right now, leave all these children to pretend they’re having the best time ever.  Clarke leaned heavily against a wall and sighed.  She was debating if anyone would notice if she just slipped away when she saw Octavia stumble into the next room with a shout and steamroll right into a girl, sending them both down in a tangle of limbs.  

“Oh man, I’m sorry,” Octavia was slurring when Clarke made it over to them and wrapped her hands around one of Octavia’s arms.  “I’m so sorry, oh, look at your pants, oh,” she was mumbling as she tried to use her shirt to mop up the spilled drink on the girl’s clothes.  Clarke tugged her so that she wasn’t completely on top of the stranger, and the girl gave her a grateful look.

“It’s fine,” she said from the floor.

“I ruined them, oh,” Octavia looked like she might cry.  Clarke hugged her with one arm and held out a hand to the girl.

“I’m sorry for her,” Clarke said.  The girl took her hand and got up, brushing her clothes as she stood.  

“It’s fine,” the girl said again.  She gave Clarke a small smile, and Clarke couldn’t help but smile back.  “Is she fine?”

“Oh, yeah, she’s fine,” Clarke said.

“I feel ill,” Octavia said into Clarke’s shoulder.  

“No you don’t,” Clarke said, eyes never leaving the girl across from her.

“I’m Lexa,” the girl said, and Clarke’s smile grew.

“Can I get you a new drink?”  Lexa nodded, but at that moment, Octavia tore herself from Clarke’s grip and stumbled out of the room, muttering something about a hair dryer.  Clarke looked between Octavia’s retreating back and Lexa, who had shoved her hands into her pockets and rocked back on her heels, unsure.

“You should,” Lexa motioned her her head.

“I should,” Clarke nodded.  She turned to follow her drunk friend, but paused.  “Clarke,” she said over her shoulder.  Lexa gave her a lopsided sort of smile, and Clarke was going to kill Octavia.

 

\---

 

“She’s your friend,” Clarke grunted, dropping her shoulder to free a very boneless Octavia.  She slumped against the bathroom wall and reached out a shaky hand to poke Clarke in the cheek.  Raven was sitting on the side of the bathtub with her elbows on her knees.

“I can’t take her, Clarke,” Raven shook her head.  

“Somebody has to take me,” Octavia whined from the floor.

“Shush,” Clarke said.  “How did you even get this drunk?”

“Where is Lincoln?” Raven suggested.

“She threw her drink in his face when he suggested she slow down on the tequila.”

“Let’s just find a bedroom for her.  It’ll only be a few hours.”

“We can’t just dump her in someone’s bedroom,” Clarke said.  

“I’m a failure,” Octavia hiccupped, and Raven and Clarke both sighed.  Clarke sat down on the floor next to her and Raven reached out to smooth her hair.  

“Honey, you’re not,” Clarke said softly.

“I lost my job,” Octavia said.  Clarke looked at Raven, who shrugged.

“That’s okay,” Clarke said.  “It was a shitty job.”

“My boss said I was a danger to myself and everyone around me,” she sighed.  Raven’s lips were pressed together.  “He said I wouldn’t, ah,” Octavia looked like she might be sick.  Her eyes closed and her head dropped back to lean against the wall while she breathed deeply through her nose.  Clarke rubbed her arm.

“Would you honor it if I called Not It?” Raven asked.  Clarke sighed and closed her eyes.  “Don’t you dare cockblock me, Clarke Griffin.”

“You have two hours before I take her home and leave her in your bed,” Clarke said.  Raven kissed the top of her head on her way out the door.  “Come on, pretty,” Clarke turned to Octavia.  “Let’s find a bed.”

 

\---

 

Octavia was not a cooperative drunk.  Clarke knew this.  It took fifteen minutes of negotiations to get the smaller girl up on her feet, arms wrapped tightly around Clarke’s neck, staggering out into the hallway.  Clarke tried different doors down the hall until she found one that opened into a dark, empty bedroom. She pushed Octavia towards the bed and huffed when the weight fell from her shoulders and she could stand up straight again.

“I’m sorry,” Octavia slurred as Clarke sat on the edge of the bed.

“Sleep it off,” Clarke sighed.  “You’re forgiven.”  Octavia peered at her from the mattress, one eye squeezed shut to help with the spinning.

“That girl was cute.  The one with the pants,” she sighed and closed both eyes.  Clarke shushed her and reached out to squeeze her shoulder as the door creaked open, and Clarke shot up off the bed.

“Oh,” she said as the light flicked on.  The girl that Octavia had knocked over was standing in the doorway.  The one with the pants.  Lexa.  She was frozen with her hand raised halfway to the lightswitch, eyes wide.

“Oh god,” Octavia moaned from the bed.  “I can’t buy you new ones, I just can’t.”  Lexa looked confused, and Clarke kicked back behind her to rattle the bed frame.

“Hi,” Clarke said, and Lexa’s hand dropped down to her side.

“Hi.”

“She needed to lay down,” Clarke gestured behind her.

“I am making poor life choices,” Octavia explained.  “Do you have tequila?”  Lexa shook her head, and Clarke decided that maybe tonight didn’t have to be a bust.

“I owe you one, though, don’t I?” Clarke smiled.  She turned to Octavia and pointed a finger at her.  “Don’t move,” she told her.  She moved away from the bed and slipped by Lexa, who hadn’t moved from the doorway.  “You don’t move either,” she said softly.  She saw Lexa swallow, and give a small nod.  

 

\---

 

By the time she made it back to the room, one hand wrapped around a mostly-full bottle of bourbon and the other holding two plastic cups against her chest, Lexa was sitting on the edge of the bed, and Octavia was curled around her.  

“He was just so good about it,” Octavia was sniffling.  “I couldn’t be around all that good. It was smothering me.  That’s -- I’m -- Everything just really.. blows.”

“You needed to breathe,” Lexa said.  Octavia nodded against Lexa’s thigh.

“Yeah,” she sighed.  Clarke shut the door softly behind her and smiled when Lexa looked up at her.

“I thought I told you both not to move,” Clarke said as she handed Lexa one of the cups.

“She knows Lincoln, Clarke,” Octavia said.

“She fell off the bed,” Lexa explained.  

“A little,” Octavia nodded.  

“Take a nap, kid,” Clarke chuckled.  Octavia nodded.  “Thank you,” she said to Lexa, who nodded and slipped off the bed, sliding down the floor so that her back rested against it.  She waved the cup in her hand at Clarke in thanks, and Clarke sat down across from her, against the dresser near the door.

“Octavia’s methods are unconventional,” Clarke grinned as she leaned to pour Lexa’s drink.  “But her wingwomaning is certainly effective.”  Lexa let out a laugh, and Clarke settled back against the dresser.  There were definitely worse ways to spend an evening babysitting your drunk roommate.

 

\---

 

“She says the best thing to happen to her this year is that she didn’t get pregnant,” Clarke sighed and brushed a piece of hair from Octavia’s forehead.  “I think that’s a pretty accurate way to measure a year.  By things you haven’t done.”  Lexa nodded.  Clarke had moved across the room to sit next to her, and was twisting at the waist to check in on her sleeping friend.

“I didn’t get the promotion I have been working towards for a year,” Lexa offered.  Her knees were bent in front of her and a bottle of whiskey sat next to her.

“My thesis was not accepted by the examining committee,” Clarke said as she reached for bottle.  She moved to lay down, flat on her back on the floor.

“You’re in school?” Clarke nodded and waved for Lexa to continue.  “I did not make it through one week of owning these pants.”

“Oh god,” Clarke chuckled.  “Octavia is a little hurricane.  She’ll feel awful tomorrow.”

“It’s fine,” Lexa smiled.  “It’s your turn.”

“Why have I never met you before?”

“That’s not something you didn’t do.”  Clarke just grinned at her.  “I’m away a lot.”

“What do you do?”

“It’s a secret.”

“Really?”

“What do you do?”

“A lot.”

They sat in a comfortable silence after that as Lexa poured another drink for herself and Clarke picked at loose thread from the blanket that hung off the bed.

“Why are you hiding out?” Clarke asked, pushing herself up to lean on an elbow.  Lexa tilted her head.  “I mean, I’m babysitting.  Why did you go off in search of a bedroom?”

“I was going to change my pants,” Lexa said, and Clarke looked confused.

“You brought a change of clothes?”  Lexa shook her head.  “Were you going to just steal someone’s pants?  A stranger’s pants?”

“No,” Lexa smirked.  “I wasn’t going to steal a stranger’s pants.  This is my room.”  Clarke shot up, paling.

“This is your room,” she repeated, looking distraught.  Lexa nodded.  “Your room, where I dumped a drunk girl in your bed.”  Lexa nodded again.  Clarke brought a hand to cover her mouth.  “Oh my god,” she breathed.  “I’m sorry.  I’m so sorry. This is embarrassing. We can go,” she struggled to her feet and moved to shake Octavia.  “We’re going to go,” she said.  Lexa reached out and tugged one of Clarke’s wrists.

“Sit down, Clarke,” she said.  

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Clarke said.  She was still shaking Octavia, who was showing no signs of movement except for the increasingly upset expression on her sleeping face.  “God, I’m such an asshole.”

“Clarke,” Lexa said, a little louder.  Clarke turned to her, looking like she wanted to crawl under the bed and die.  “Sit down.”  She did.  

“You’re Anya’s roommate,” Clarke said, waving one arm and letting it drop heavily into her lap.  Lexa nodded.  “The one in the army,” Clarke said, and Lexa nodded again.  “That’s why you’re away a lot.”  Lexa nodded again.  “Please, feel free to say anything to stop me here, I’m really on a roll tonight.”

“It’s okay,” Lexa laughed.  

“Why did you say your job was a secret?” Lexa shrugged.

“I didn’t want to get into it,” she said.  “I don’t get to meet many pretty girls in my bedroom.”  Clarke blushed and reached for her cup so she could hide her nose in it.

“Pretty, huh?”

 

\---

 

A small, puffy, angry looking cat was glaring at her from the top of a bookshelf and Clarke felt weirdly scrutinized.  She averted her eyes from the animal and saw Lexa smiling at her with half her mouth.

“You don’t seem like, you know, a cat person,” Clarke cleared her throat. She knew she sounded dumb and uncomfortable, but she liked Lexa’s voice, and she didn’t want to leave.  They had covered all the basics once Lexa had gotten Clarke to stop freaking out and lay back down on the floor.  But once they breezed through jobs, siblings, and favorite embarrassing movies, they lapsed into a quiet that teetered between comfortable and when-is-she-going-to-realize-this-is-weird.  Clarke shook her head and said, “I don’t think it likes me.”

“Ease,” Lexa called softly, and the cat stopped glaring at Clarke to move toward her, bumping its head against Lexa’s hand.  “Be nice,” she told it.  The cat didn’t look any less angry.

“Ease?  That’s his name?”

“Her name,” Lexa corrected.  “Well, nick name.”

“What’s her full name?”

“Archimedes,” Lexa said.  And then, “Don’t laugh.”

“I’m not laughing.”

“You are.”

“Like the mathematician?” Lexa blushed.

“Like the owl,” she mumbled.  Clarke couldn’t help the snort that came at that.

“I’m sorry,” Clarke covered her smile with her hand.  “But you’re so intimidating, and just, you know.  You have this angry little Disney owl cat.”  Lexa glowered and scooped the cat up into her arms.  Clarke laughed outright, then, at the matching glares they were shooting her.  Octavia whined behind her at the noise, and Clarke sat up on one elbow and reached out to smooth the girl’s hair away from her face.

“You’re teasing me,” Lexa grumbled.

“You’re actually adorable,” Clarke smiled, and Lexa’s shoulders relaxed a little.

“Do you make a habit of breaking into girls’ bedrooms to flirt with them?”  She set the cat down on the bed, who continued to stare at Clarke as it walked in small circles on Octavia’s back.  “Is that your move?” Clarke looked away and blushed.

“Oh, um, no,” she muttered.  “You’re right, this is totally creepy.  I can go.”  Lexa reached a hand out and rested it against Clarke’s forearm.

“I’m teasing you,” Lexa said softly.  “I don’t want you to leave.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

Clarke was grinning at her, and at the fact that Lexa hadn’t dropped her hand from her arm, when the door clicked open and Raven stuck her head in.

“Jesus, there you are,” Raven sighed, opening the door fully and leaning against the frame.  She crossed her arms and tilted her head.  “I’m sorry.  I’m interrupting.”

“No,” Clarke cleared her throat.  “What’s up?”

“It’s time to go,” Raven shrugged.  “Clarke, are you seriously hooking up with Octavia sleeping behind you?” Clarke was turning an alarming shade of red.

“No.  Shut up,” she grumbled.  Lexa was quiet, but looked amused.

“Okay, well, _my_ hookup’s girlfriend just showed up and she looks like she can take both of us, so it’s time to go, kid.”  She moved into the room and nodded at Octavia.  “Take an arm.”

Raven ducked her head down to loop one of Octavia’s arms around her shoulders, and as she moved to stand, Archimedes sprang at her and swiped at the back of her neck, hissing. Raven yelped and jumped away as the cat continued to bristle and spit, and she reached a hand to the back of her neck with wide eyes.

“Call off the attack cat, man, fuck,” she said.  Lexa grabbed the cat and set her on a bookshelf.  “This whole damn apartment is trying to kill me.  Let’s go.  Please let’s go.”  Clarke looked conflicted.  Lexa smiled at her.

“You should,” Lexa trailed off.

“I should,” Clarke sighed.

It took a bit of cooing at Octavia to get the girl up and on her feet, but they managed.  Clarke poked her finger into Octavia’s chest before they left the room and said, “You will get your shit together for 15 steps.  You will _walk_ out of this apartment, O, and then we will carry you home.”  Octavia nodded and stood a little straighter.  She marched out of the room with Raven as Clarke turned back to Lexa.

“That was impressive,” Lexa nodded towards the door.

“She’d kill me if I let people see her like this,” Clarke gestured weakly to the bed.  “I’m sorry again.  This was nice.  I mean.  I had a nice time.  I’m glad I broke in.  But I’m sorry.  Too.  As well.”  Lexa smirked.

“Breathe, Clarke.  This was nice.”

“Cool,” Clarke exhaled and grinned.  “I should…” Lexa nodded.  She heard a crash from the hallway and shot Lexa an apologetic smile before she bolted.  She found Raven and Octavia struggling against each other in the hallway.

“What are you doing,” Clarke hissed, grabbing Octavia’s arm and pulling her down the hall toward the door.

“She punched me, Clarke,” Raven said.

 

\---

 

“Do you remember your midnight?”

Octavia groaned from the kitchen counter, hunched over a glass of water.  She wore a sweatshirt with the hood pulled low over her face, and very little else.  She was also so fucking over her roommates.

“Do you remember the ride home, when you tried to sell the Uber driver a chicken?” Raven leaned a hip against the refrigerator as she took sandwiches wrapped in tin foil out of a slightly greasy paper bag.  

“No,” Octavia sighed.

“Do you remember shouting at him when he refused to turn down the heat, and then taking off your pants?”

“No.”

“Do you remember demanding that he hand over the pizza you ordered, and that he get out of your car immediately?”  Octavia pushed away from the counter and shuffled to the couch, where Clarke was staring blankly into a mug of coffee.

“No,” she whined as she curled into a ball on the cushions.

“I do,” Raven said.

“Where are my pants?”

“You held them like a flag out the window of the car and claimed 7th Avenue as your own,” Raven smirked.  “I think they’re probably about five blocks south.”  

“I hate myself.”

“You didn’t have a good night with pants,” Clarke agreed.  She caught a sandwich as Raven threw it into the living room, and handed it to Octavia.

“Speaking of pants,” Raven raised an eyebrow at Clarke, “have you told O that you were about to take yours off with her last night?”  Octavia looked up from the warm tin foil bundle in her hands with a wide, confused eyes.

“I was not,” Clarke grumbled.  

“Was I, um,” Octavia’s voice was small and high.  “Did I, um.”

“No,” Clarke said.

“You would have been a spectator,” Raven assured.

“You’re a terrible person,” Clarke snapped at Raven, who grinned and took a big bite of sandwich.  

“She was hot,” Raven said through a mouthful.  “I’d’ve.”  Clarke sank lower into the couch until her shoulders covered her ears. “You gonna call ‘er?”

“I didn’t get her number.”  

Even Octavia managed a chuckle at her expense.

 

\---

 

“You didn’t tell me your new girlfriend is Anya’s roommate.”

“Good morning, Raven,” Clarke shouldered her aside as she made her way to the coffee maker on the counter.  

“Why would you leave that part out?”

“I thought it was sort of implied,” Clarke shrugged.  She filled her mug and cupped both hands around it, hunching over it, closing her eyes, breathing.  Raven laid her palm over the top of the mug and pushed it down until Clarke raised her eyes to her in annoyance.

“All you’ll tell me is that she was nice, and maybe flirted with you, and that her eyes were pretty, and --”

“Shut up, Raven,” she snapped.

“Why are you pining like a teenager when you know where she lives?”  Clarke rolled her eyes and stepped around Raven, who stretched to reach over Clarke’s head for a box of cereal on top of the fridge.  Clarke moved into the living room to curl herself into an arm chair, wrapping around her mug.  “Just go over,” Raven continued.

“I can’t do that.  I can’t do that, Raven,” Clarke said, and Raven threw a handful of cereal at her.  

“You’re killing me.  You’re killing us.”

“Don’t drag Octavia into this, she practically doesn’t even live here.”

“I live here,” Octavia whined from the couch.  A blanket covered her from head to toe.  

“You haven’t moved in three days, and this is the first time I’ve heard you say something other than ‘need Cheetos,’ or ‘less talky.’”  Octavia pulled at the blanket until half her face was freed.

“I’m processing,” she said.  “You need to support me.”

“You need to shower,” Clarke shook her head.  “Let me get you a job or something.”

“I don’t want a job.  I want to be a disaster.”  Clarke opened her mouth to respond, but stopped with a sigh as Raven threw another handful of cereal at her.

“Misdirection,” Raven called.  “Foul on the play.  Interception.”

“Okay,” Clarke held one hand up.

“You know where she lives, and you’re almost friends with her roommate.  Go over.”

“This is a level of creepy I’m not totally comfortable with.”

“You’re driving me crazy, Clarke.”

“I’m not _doing_ anything.”

“ _That’s_ what’s driving me crazy!” Raven thunked her box of cereal onto the counter and groaned.  They were all quiet.  “At least let me talk to Anya.”

“And what,” Clarke scowled.  “Pass her a note that says your friend thinks her friend is cute?  I didn’t even give her a chance to tell me to leave,” Clarke waved a hand.  “I just dropped a drunk girl in her bed and laid on her floor and asked her to tell me all her secrets.”

“She looked into it from where I stood.”

“She was nice,” Octavia said from under her blanket, and Clarke nodded.

“She was nice,” Clarke sighed.

 

\---

 

It took three days of grumbling, insults, and outright threats for Raven and Clarke to convince Octavia to get off the couch.  It took another day and a half to convince her to shower.  But once that was done and Octavia was starting to vaguely resemble a human again, it didn’t take _that_ much to convince her she needed something to fucking keep her busy.

“You’re deteriorating,” Raven said one afternoon as she hunched over a textbook at the kitchen counter.  “It’s hard to watch.”  Octavia rolled her eyes, and Clarke leaned to poke her in the side with her cereal spoon.

“Stop being dramatic,” Octavia swatted at Clarke’s arm.  “I’m up, I’m moving, I cooked you dinner last night.  Maybe a little appreciation.  You assholes haven’t even thanked me.”

“You’ve graduated from patronizing Atta Girl’s,” Raven shook her head.  

“They were insincere anyway,” Clarke added.

“You guys suck.”  Raven shrugged.  “But,” Octavia sighed, and Clarke turned to face her fully, expectant and quiet.  “I guess, maybe, it wouldn’t be awful to have something to do.”  

“You’re going to let me get you a job, then?” Clarke grinned.

“I broke the Apple TV yesterday anyway,” Octavia shrugged.

“You what?”  

 

\---

 

It was another whole day before Clarke wrapped her hand around Octavia’s elbow and physically dragged her down the two flights of stairs to the coffee shop below their apartment.  She picked up shifts whenever she could, and it was an awful job when they made her actually make coffee, but otherwise, it was a pretty sweet gig.  The hours were flexible, the commute was unbeatable, and the manager, Finn, was nice and pretty cute and didn’t enforce a lot of rules.  

Although, as soon as she settled at a table with a grumpy Octavia and a slightly bewildered Finn, she wasn’t totally sure this was a good plan, afterall.

“Why do I have to fill out an application?” Octavia crossed her arms, and then her legs, as she glared across the table.  Finn looked confused.

“Aren’t you applying for a job?”

“No,” Octavia said.  “Clarke said you would give me one.  I’m not applying.”  Clarke sat back in her chair and shrugged when Finn looked to her for help.

“That’s not really how it works,” he said.  He had one hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck.  “You still need to fill this out.”

“But you know who I am,” Octavia shook her head.  “Why do I need to write it down?”

“Because I assume you’d like to be paid,” Finn snapped, and Octavia sat up a little straighter and tilted her head to the side.  “You know what, let’s revisit this later.  Do you know how to make a latte?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, come watch me, and you can try after.  I’m sure you’re a quick learner.” He winked and shot her a charming smile, and was noticeably disappointed when she just rolled her eyes and stalked behind the counter without waiting for him.

“She’s usually lovely,” Clarke said.

“Oh, I can see it,” Finn nodded as he got up to follow.

Clarke was honestly surprised that Finn could make it through the whole latte without Octavia punching him, and she made sure to give encouraging smiles whenever either of them looked up at her.  Finn was showcasing an incredible level of patience as Octavia grumbled, scoffed, and make more than one joke about Finn’s aptitude with the steam wand.  She was only a little nervous when Finn suggested she try taking an order or two, to get a feel for customer service, but Octavia grit her teeth and tried not to scowl, and that was really the most anyone could hope or.

When a girl approached the counter and Octavia didn’t yell at her to hurry the fuck up, Clarke considered it a success.

“How big is your large?” The girl asked, peering around the counter.

“They’re large,” Octavia shrugged.  “Do you want one?”

“But how large?”

“Do you have an ounce requirement?”

“Well, no,” the girl looked surprised.  “I just - do you have an example?”

“Of a cup,” Octavia said.

“Yes?  So I can see how large?”  Octavia stared across the counter with narrow eyes before she reached to her right and set an empty cup down in front of her.  “Oh,” the girl said.  “That’s not really that large.  Are you sure that’s as big as they get?”  Clarke watched Finn inching closer to the register, eyes wide and cautious.

“All of my cups are literally two feet from you,” Octavia said through her teeth.  “Do you think I’m hiding the real larges somewhere?  Under my shirt?” Octavia made a show of looking down the neck of her shirt, and as she reached for the hem, Finn placed a hand on her forearm.

“Thank you, Octavia,” he said with a smile and a gentle shove to the side.  He took the order and handed her an empty cup, motioning towards the steamer.  “Easy one,” he said.  “We just walked through this drink.  Why don’t you try?”  Octavia snatched the cup out of his hand and spun on her heel.  Clarke gave him a hesitant thumbs up from across the room.  

“This is broken,” Octavia was glaring at the steamer and tapping her foot.  “I can’t learn to make lattes on broken machines.”

“It’s not broken.”

“It is.  It won’t steam.”

“Did you --”

“I’m not an idiot, I can follow directions.”

“I didn’t say -- okay, but see this?  You need to --”

“I did that already.”

“No, you didn’t, it’s okay, just --”

“I can do this, just give me some space.”

“Octavia, listen, you have to --”

“Stop it.”

“I didn’t do anything!”

“Give me the damn cup back.”

“Okay, here, just --”

There was a crash as Finn was pushed back roughly into the counter and metal scoops and a few mugs were shoved off the side.  Octavia froze, palms out in front of her, shocked by her own actions.

“Maybe she just cleans,” Clarke called from her table, head resting heavily in one of her hands.

 

\---

 

“My gratitude for you getting Octavia to relinquish this part of the couch is neverending, by the way,” Raven sighed as she shoved her face into a pillow against an arm of the couch.  She curled onto her side and covered herself with a blanket, before making a face and pushing it onto the floor.  “This smells now, though.”

“You can owe me,” Clarke said, reaching for her phone as it vibrated on the end table next to her.  She held it up to her ear as she answered the call with, “Ah, did you hear us talking about you?”

“The eagle has landed,” Octavia whispered into the phone.

“What?”

“10-33, Griffin.”

“What?”

“This is not a drill, Clarke.”

“What is happening right now?”

“Your mystery girlfriend is downstairs, and I don’t know why I’m friends with you.”

“Lexa?  Lexa is downstairs?  Why?” Clarke found herself pacing in front of the couch, and not totally able to remember actually standing up.  Raven was watching her with one eyebrow raised.

“I imagine she’s here for the coffee,” Octavia said, and Clarke could _hear_ her glaring.  “Are you going to come accidentally bump into her?”

“Yes,” Clarke said, halfway to her bedroom.  “No,” she stopped.  She looked at Raven, who rolled her eyes.  “Yes,” she said again, moving to her bedroom to find her shoes.  “How long do I have?”

“There’s a line,” Octavia said, and Clarke hung up and shoved her phone in her back pocket, hopping on one foot as she struggled into her shoes.

“Why would she be on this side of town for coffee?” Clarke wondered out loud, grabbing her keys and moving toward the door.

Raven shrugged.  “I’ve seen her around.”  Clarke stopped in the doorway and turned to stare at her roommate.

“Why would you not tell me that?”

“I told you yesterday.  I texted you.”

“No,” Clarke shook her head.  “You texted me five boob emojis and a thumbs up.”  Raven sighed.

“You will never understand me like Octavia does.”  Clarke shot her a glare before rushing out of apartment and slamming the door behind her.  

 

\---

 

“Took you long enough,” Octavia crossed her arms and tossed a rag onto a tabletop, watching Clarke fix her hair, breathing hard and scanning the coffee shop.  Her eyes landed on Lexa across the room, and she made herself smaller, moving Octavia by the shoulders until she was sufficiently blocked from sight.  “Are you hiding?  Is that what’s happening right now?”

“I don’t have a plan,” Clarke hissed.  “What do I do?”

“Where is all that Griffin charm you’re always talking about?  Okay, how about you open with, ‘do you come here often?’”

“Octavia,” Clarke whined.

“Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?” Clarke stood up a little straighter to glare at her.  “Wait - your hand looks heavy, let me hold it for you.”  Octavia was grinning now, and Clarke pushed at her shoulder with one hand.  “Are you Fred Flintstone?  Because I can make -- oof,” Octavia hunched as Clarke slammed an elbow into her side as she pushed past her.  Clarke could hear her laughing through the wheeze as she strode across the floor towards Lexa, who was reaching over the counter to take her coffee from a barista.

“Lexa,” she called, probably too loudly.  “Funny meeting you here.”  

 _Real nice job there, Griffin,_ she chided herself.

“Hey Princess,” Finn greeted from behind the counter with a smile, and Clarke’s eyes went wide before she could respond.  “Usual?”

“Come here often?” Lexa smirked, shifting her weight to one hip and crossing her arms.  Clarke paused, suddenly slightly panicked that Lexa had heard her maybe-not-so hushed conversation at the door.  She glanced over her shoulder at Octavia, who was grinning.

“I work here sometimes,” Clarke shrugged.

“You don’t strike me as a ‘Princess’ type of girl.”

Clarke shook her head and said, “No - Finn, he.. It’s, I mean I’m not,” and Finn laughed from behind the counter.

“She most certainly is,” he said, and Clarke’s head whipped around to glare at him.  He ignored her and continued, “Ask her why she’s banned from the steamer.”

“Okay,” Clarke turned back to Lexa with one finger raised.  “Maybe ask what the steamer did to _me_.”  She paused and shook her head, inhaling deeply and very deliberately dropping her hand to her side.

“Can I buy you coffee?” Lexa asked, clearly amused at Clarke’s mortification.  Clarke stopped fidgeting and let herself relax a little.

“She gets free coffee,” Finn snorted from behind the steamer, and Clarke glared at him as hard as she could.

“How about you buy me a coffee, then?”  

They smiled at each other until everyone around them lost interest.

 

\---

 

Four cups of coffee and two completely unsubtle attempts at eavesdropping from Octavia later, Lexa leaned into the palm of her hand, elbow propped on the table between them.  

“I think your friend is trying to get your attention,” she whispered with a small smile, nodding towards the counter.  Clarke’s brow furrowed as she turned in her seat to see Octavia balling up bits of paper and launching them across the shop, aiming for the back of the blonde’s head.  The floor between them was littered with tiny crumpled napkins.  When she saw that she finally had Clarke’s attention, she grinned and held up a piece of paper that read, “ _Ask her out” -_ Octavia held up a hand and flipped the page to hold up the other side - “ _You moron.”_

“She’s subtle,” Lexa grinned when Clarke turned back to her.  If Clarke had turned around again, she would have seen Octavia hold up a new sign that said, “ _Show her your boobs.”_ Lexa decided not to draw attention to that suggestion.

“So you’ve already met my friends,” Clarke leaned both arms on the table, “I’ve gotten you drunk, you’ve shown me your bedroom.  I know there’s a stuffed pony under the pillow on your bed.  It feels like we skipped a step.”

“Hand-holding, definitely,” Lexa nodded.

“Slow down.  I haven’t even asked you out yet.”

“I hope you do a good job.  This has been anything but ordinary.”

“I have a few moves,” Clarke said seriously.  

“I have no doubt.”

“Like maybe I could show you my bedroom,” Clarke grinned at her joke until she realized what she had actually just said, and she flinched at herself.  “I didn’t mean that,” she said as she grit her teeth and stared down at her feet.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“I’d like very much to see your bedroom, Clarke,” Lexa smirked.  “But maybe dinner first.”

“Oh,” Clarke looked back up to see Lexa not even trying to mask her amusement.  “Yeah,” she breathed.  “Yeah?”

Clarke was so busy grinning across the table that she wasn’t even annoyed when Octavia strolled by and high-fived her right there at the table.  Lexa was laughing as she folded Clarke’s hand into her own.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr at [smallamountsofmonster](http://smallamountsofmonster.tumblr.com/)
> 
> i love hearing from you guys.


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